


floriography

by starkswinterfelling



Series: we could be heroes [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Courferre Week, Floriography, Friendship, M/M, but becomes ridiculously fluffy, emotion heavy, it's very emotional fluff though, starts kind of angsty, warning for a shit ton of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkswinterfelling/pseuds/starkswinterfelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Where are you? :(</i>
</p><p>Combeferre sat in his car just outside his house, the engine still running and the radio playing faintly to itself, the dull and monotonous voice of the presenter allowing his fatigued mind to unwind for a few short moments. With a small thump, he let his head fall back against the seat as he closed his weary eyes and clumsily rubbed a hand over his face; it had been a long day, and even the promise of a lovely night with his boyfriend failed to improve his mood.<br/>Issue after issue, problem after problem, and the on-going mantra:</p><p>Date night with Courfeyrac, date night with Courfeyrac, date night with Courfeyrac.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Combeferre comes home to a grand gesture from his friends and loved one.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	floriography

**Author's Note:**

> part of my modern au that focuses around combeferre/courfeyrac that i've been posting on tumblr (grantairesbottle.tumblr.com) but i thought this would be the perfect part to upload first onto ao3.
> 
> also part of my contribution to the courferre week which i started over there!
> 
> emotions galore! enjoy!

_Where are you? :(_  
  
Combeferre sat in his car just outside his house, the engine still running and the radio playing faintly to itself, the dull and monotonous voice of the presenter allowing his fatigued mind to unwind for a few short moments. With a small thump, he let his head fall back against the seat as he closed his weary eyes and clumsily rubbed a hand over his face; it had been a long day, and even the promise of a lovely night with his boyfriend failed to improve his mood.  
  
Issue after issue, problem after problem, and the on-going mantra:  
  
 _Date night with Courfeyrac, date night with Courfeyrac, date night with Courfeyrac._  
  
For whatever reason the past few weeks had been a flurry of activity, essays, work, and Combeferre couldn’t help but feel guilty about the lack of time he’d spent with his loved one recently. The ever-understanding Courfeyrac simply smiled and shook his head whenever he tried to offer his apologies for his ridiculous work schedule.  
  
“Stop worrying about it, babe,” he said with his usual cheerful smile after Combeferre had to postpone their date once again; he had seen his guilt-ridden expression as soon as he entered their kitchen a couple of nights before, and instead of disappointment like Combeferre expected, his boyfriend just wrapped his arms around his waist and breathed a few kisses into his hair.  
  
Combeferre had sighed wearily, but allowed himself to relax into Courfeyrac’s embrace all the same – it was warm, welcoming, tender – and he had no qualms in admitting his need for the comfort that could always be found in his arms.  
  
“I worry because I feel like I’m letting you down.”  
  
It was a small confession, but the words felt heavy in his mouth.  
  
Courfeyrac was untroubled, as always – it was a comfort. “Unnecessary worries,” he muttered against his neck where he was planting short, sweet kisses. “You could never let me down.”  
  
Almost subconsciously, Combeferre started to tense up in his arms again. “I just wish-“  
  
“-Shhh.” Courfeyrac’s arms tightened around him as he cut him off, and his arm snaked up to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair in a reassuring and familiar gesture. “Don’t dwell on it. You’re here now, that’s all that matters to me.”  
  
Sitting in his car and thinking back on that moment, he still wasn’t able to stop the sinking feeling in his stomach, the lead balloon of guilt sat deep in his gut that seemed to weigh him down every time he thought about how little time he’d spent with Courfeyrac as of late. How had he even managed to keep him around? God, he must feel so unloved - he needed to make it up – he needed to make sure he _knew_ – he needed – Christ, he needed Courfeyrac – what was wrong with him he could barely even get excited for a date with – he was going to lose him at this rate – maybe if he just – why was he – shit –  
  
He needed to calm down.  
  
He needed to _sleep_.  
  
 _I really need tonight. I need us._  
  
Combeferre’s fingers had flown across the keypad of his phone before he even realised what he was typing, but he barely had time to be embarrassed by what he’d sent before his phone buzzed with a reply.  
  
 _i no u do. i’ll be out in a min. ily <3_  
  
That tiny little text heart was enough to make Combeferre’s own heart beat a little faster in his chest.  
  
He’d make it up to him, somehow; Courfeyrac would probably insist he didn’t need the validation, but Combeferre did – he needed to know that he knew.  
  
That he was integral part of him – essential, vital, fundamental – central – his core.  
  
 _(Would a life without you be one worth living?)_  
  
A vibration in his hand and Combeferre is brought out of his reverie; it’s unlike him to be so melancholy, but he’s found himself in this state more frequently than he’d have liked over the past few weeks. The past month. Two months.  
  
How in the fuck had Courfeyrac stayed around for two –  
  
His phone is buzzing again.  
  
 _sorry i’m taking so long_  
  
 _meet me out back?_  
  
Combeferre slid out of the car with barely a moment’s thought, and ambled around the side of their small house, hands stuffed in his pockets and head down – and nearly walked headlong into Bossuet.  
  
“Lesgle?” Combeferre was unable to hide his surprise at the man’s presence; not that it was ever unwelcome. “What are you…?“  
  
Bossuet simply laughed cheerfully and gave him a quick slap on the back. “I hear you’ve been feeling a bit down – you like flowers, don’t you?”  
  
It was true; he had somewhat of a fascination with floriography, and had spent the early months of his relationship with Courfeyrac putting together modest bouquets and spending evenings explaining to him the meanings behind each of the flowers – even so, Combeferre was unable to fathom a reason to why his friend was stood outside his house, let alone asking him about his interests.  
  
“Well, yes I,” Combeferre sputtered. “But I don’t-“  
  
“-Here you go.”  
  
With somewhat of a knowing smile that Combeferre was too confused to question further, Bossuet held out his arm and handed him a single blue hyacinth.  
  
Combeferre frowned slightly, but said nothing as he took the flower from his friend, his expression softened substantially. “It’s lovely, Bossuet,” he said truthfully, as he examined the flower that he held delicately in his hands. “But I still don’t understand what-“  
  
The man sighed good-naturedly and cut him off once again. “I thought you were smart?” he joked with a merry smile. When he continued, his voice became much more serious, but there was still a jovial glint in his eyes. “I chose it for you,” he said softly. “It’s what you mean to me.”  
  
A small beat of silence.  
  
“Sincerity,” Combeferre breathed, and after such a long day, week, month – this small act of kindness was enough to bring him to the verge of tears. “Oh Bossuet,” he sighed, his eyes welling up and his voice wobbling, almost forgetting the madness of the entire situation, “that’s so touching.”  
  
“Hey.” Combeferre felt a hand on his arm and he looked up to meet his friend’s gaze. “No crying yet, or we’re never going to get finished.”  
  
The glazed look to Bossuet’s eyes seemed to contradict what he was saying, but before Combeferre could question it, the man had pulled out a small pink rose and handed it to him before moving away.  
  
“Friendship,” Combeferre muttered to himself, allowing a watery smile; but he was not able to dwell on it long before another of his friends had appeared in front of him.  
  
“Hello you,” Jehan called as he moved forward quickly, positively glowing.  
  
Combeferre tried to sound stern as he forced out “Prouvaire, you’d better tell me what’s going on,” from his aching throat, but his friend just laughed.  
  
“It would be easier just to accept it, dear.”  
  
With no preamble, Jehan handed him a white water lily, and Combeferre accepted it silently.  
  
“I did some research,” Jehan started gently, “because I wanted to find you something special. And I found a lot of meanings for this one.”  
  
“Hope, rebirth, celebration,” Combeferre offered feebly, too close to sobbing to propose much else.  
  
Jehan smiled, and quickly darted forward and planted a light kiss on his cheek – then he whispered –  
  
“Purity of heart.”  
  
Another small pink rose and his friend disappeared almost as quickly as he’d appeared.  
  
“I knew you’d be crying after Prouvaire’s.”  
  
Combeferre looked up quickly to where Grantaire was strolling towards him – he couldn’t help but give a small laugh and wipe at his eyes half-heartedly. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what’s going on either?” he asked, but was unhopeful as he looked upon Grantaire’s amused expression.  
  
“Where would be the fun in that?” Grantaire replied with a toothy grin, and Combeferre wasn’t even a little bit surprised when the artist offered his own flower – a scarlet geranium.  
  
Combeferre let out another watery laugh as he took it. “I hope you realise that either means comforting or stupidity.”  
  
A cheeky grin and a, “I like to keep you on your toes.”  
  
Grantaire’s expression became tender for a short moment as he then handed over his pink rose, but quickly turned to amusement once more. “Try not to dehydrate yourself with all those tears,” he murmured, wiping his thumb across Combeferre’s cheek and catching a small droplet. A second later, and he had moved himself away to let his next friend step in.  
  
Joly didn’t even try to hide the fact that he, like Combeferre, was on the verge of breaking down into sobbing mess, and by that time Combeferre wasn’t even questioning it – he just took the white lisianthus with a warm smile.  
  
“I know it can mean lots of things,” Joly’s lip wobbled slightly, though his bright smile didn’t falter, and Combeferre felt a pang of affection for the man in front of him. “But it can mean calming, and admiration – and that’s what you are to me.”  
  
“Oh Joly,” Combeferre breathed, and allowed a few tears to escape as his friend gave him his pink rose. “Thank you.”  
  
“No,” Joly corrected him, his eyes bright. “Thank _you_.”  
  
Feuilly’s came as the biggest surprise – as flattering and unbelievably humbling everyone’s offers to him had been, Feuilly had genuinely left Combeferre speechless in a way he’d never felt before.  
  
“Inspiration,” Feuilly muttered affectionately, as he handed over his iris and the pink rose with it.  
  
Combeferre stood, words failing him as he gazed upon his friend with as much love as he capable of, and Feuilly just smiled – a gentle squeeze of his hand and then he was gone.  
  
“It looks a bit fruity,” Bahorel announced as he arrived, holding out his offering – a gladiolus. “But it sums you up perfectly to me; strength of character and generosity.”  
  
Combeferre chuckled as he added it to the vast array of flowers that he had in his arms, “I’m not sure at this point I can handle anymore – flowers or unbelievable kindness,” he admitted, his voice wobbling once again. “I’ll be a wreck.”  
  
Bahorel left him with another pink rose, a loud laugh, and a warning, “Just you wait.”  
  
And Combeferre knew, as soon as Enjolras turned the corner holding a pink rose and a pink carnation, he’d lost all semblance of dignity as he broke down in tears.  
  
“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Enjolras muttered quietly as he neared his best friend, but as Combeferre looked up into his eyes and saw them, intense as always, watching him with such fondness, he couldn’t help but sob with more vigour.  
  
“Here,” Enjolras said softly, placing his two flowers in Combeferre’s grasp. “The only message I want you to take from the carnation is gratitude – because that’s the – the-“  
  
A small pause, and Combeferre raised his gaze once more to find his best friend biting his lip and refusing to look at him – overcome with emotion.  
  
“That’s the most important thing,” Enjolras continued eventually, finally looking back into Combeferre’s eyes. “I am so thankful for everything you’ve done – for being such a brilliant friend to me – I have nothing but the utmost respect for you.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”  
  
Combeferre opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, and Enjolras just smiled warmly.  
  
“Courfeyrac is waiting for you in the back garden.”  
  
Whatever had been weighing him down seemed to be lifted as Combeferre walked through the gate to the garden – he felt lighter than air – he could have been flying – and nothing, _nothing_ –would ever beat the feeling of seeing his love, waiting for him with the most radiant smile Combeferre had ever seen.  
  
“Hello,” Courfeyrac said, slowly moving towards Combeferre, who had just stopped where he stood when he caught sight of his boyfriend.  
  
“Hi,” Combeferre croaked in reply, and the two stood in silence for a few moments smiling and adoring each other.  
  
“I have some things for you,” Courfeyrac admitted, his smile growing even wider – and then he deftly pulled a violet tulip from his grasp and handed it to his boyfriend.  
  
“A violet tulip - faithfulness in love,” Courfeyrac explained.  
  
He pulled out a sunflower. “A sunflower – adoration.”  
  
 _I’m walking on water_  
  
“A red rose – passionate love.”  
  
 _I’m lighter than air_  
  
“A phlox – our souls are united.”  
  
 _I’m flying_  
  
“A primrose – I can’t live without you.”  
  
 _I’m soaring_  
  
“A stephanotis – marital bliss.”  
  
All air seemed to escape Combeferre’s lungs, as he turned frantically and saw his friends – his beautiful, special, and utterly fantastic friends – all stood watching him expectantly.  
  
When he turned back he felt stronger than he ever had done before – and though the sight of Courfeyrac on a bended knee before him left him breathless – and though his question made his heart beat deafeningly in his chest – Combeferre had no hesitation in uttering –  
  
“ _Yes._ ”  
  
And it felt like the easiest thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> isn't it teeth rottingly cute?
> 
> didn't want to spoil the surprise and tell you all a proposal was on the way! i hope i surprised you as much courfeyrac did combeferre!
> 
> feedback appreciated - and perhaps i'll start uploading more of this verse up here too.
> 
> grantairesbottle.tumblr.com


End file.
